Thank You
by ultrafreakyfangirl
Summary: All this title makes me think about is the Alanis Morrissette song, that has nothing to do with anything in this case, but still, it suits the fic :P "Joe feels like he should thank her for some things, and as it turns out, she wants to thank him, too."


**_Author's Note: I was watching the scene in 5x12/5x13 during the end of the riot and was in the mood to write an aftermath sort of fic. They were up all night, right? And Joe, being the kind of guy he is, would never let Natalie drive all the way back to Albany on no sleep. So, with that in mind, this was born. It jumps around a bit and ends in S7. As always, shoot me a quick review and let me know what you think! _**

**_Random side note: I cannot get enough of how Alysia says the words Albany as _**_**All-bany and Missouri as Missur-a :P **_

* * *

It was over. It was _all over._ _Thank fuck._ He turned over in his bed, suddenly way too warm to be comfortable, and was met with another body, equally warm, but in this moment, here, now, she seemed softer. Physically, her features were smooth, unmarred by the anguish that had been there just hours before.

There were the dark shadows under her eyes, and within them, too; she'd been haunted, scared, and restless, just like he had been, and when they were sitting there, tortured by the fact that absolutely nothing was happening, all he had wanted to do in that moment, was take it all away from her; he wanted so badly to help her, help her deal with all of this fucking shit, the only way he knew how.

He wanted take her up against that wall and fuck her, _fuck her_ until all she could think about was _him_, him inside of her, him whispering things, telling her how _fucking hot_ she is, how sexy she should feel pinned underneath him like this, but not once, would he dare say _it's going to be okay,_ that it was all going to end, and soon. Because they hadn't known that, then, and so it wouldn't be fair to beguile her like that as he trailed kisses, hot and heavy, down her neck.

Now, she was asleep, her features soft, her breath even softer, like a child's, and he could think of it as unnerving, seeing her like this, but instead, he saw her for someone he hadn't before; here and now, she was a beautiful person, a beautiful woman, who was regal but still, compassionate, empathetic.

She cared tonight, even if she was afraid to let herself, to admit it, to herself, she did. He could tell that giving those inmates up was one of the harder things she's had to do, because before he turned away, unable to face the _fucking bullshit,_ he caught her eye; to make himself better, he's choosing to believe that she wasn't saying anything, but really, he knew that she had been asking him for help. He couldn't do it though, and the thing was, he knew_,_ that she could, and on her own. She was stronger than him. She always has been.

He reached into the small space that separates them, the middle of the bed, and touched her back, light, unobtrusive. He just needed to feel her, somehow, some part of her, to make himself relax; her back rose and fell in tandem with those childish breaths, her fingers twitched slightly in sleep, and it was the least sexual thing he could think of, next to teeth brushing and sharing a sink, but there was something passionate about it, there was an intimacy in the stillness, and in that moment, he doesn't dare to breathe.

The next morning, neither of them said anything when they wake up to the sunlight streaming into the window, his hand on her back and hers against his chest. It had been a long, rough night, and the company did them both good, because if he had been alone last night, there would have been no_ coping_, just a bottle of bourbon and a nice, fancy shot glass. He had every right to tell her _thank you_ but knew that it would be grossly overstepping.

…

The night they went on their _one and only date, _he fucked her in the women's washroom. He fucked her hard and deep and without apology. He basically threw her into the side of the stall, forced her skirt off and her legs to part, and when he felt her, wet and smooth around him, he kissed her to shut himself up.

He raked his hands through her hair, pulled it so tight he could see the smallest scar on her scalp, right above her ear. He stared at her, unblinking, and she was bold in holding him there, matching fire in their eyes, spreading to their chests.

It was then that he thanked her, repeatedly, groaning, rhythmic, broken, _thank you, thank you so fucking much,_ into her shoulder, biting, sucking, bruising her skin, scratching teeth across bone.

Their releases came together as if they had planned it, and her arms found their way around his neck, and she hung off of him, shocked, drained, and without words. He didn't want her to say anything, strictly because he knew that if she did, it would have felt forceful, as though by allowing her to come just then, meant that she had to respond, respond how he wanted her to, though not necessarily how he _needed_ her to.

…

He decided not to knock this time, but instead, to walk into her office as if had every right to be there. She was taken by surprise, though not out of doing actual work, given that when he walked in, he could see from the way her computer screen was angled that she was busy scrolling through some online shopping website.

"Hey, babe. You picking out some new lingerie for tonight?" he teased, but by the way she looked at him, one wouldn't think he had been teasing. There was a hard line where her mouth should have been.

"What's tonight? Ah, fuck, are you telling me I forgot our _kiss-anniversary?_ I'm_ such_ a terrible _girlfriend_."

The way she emphasized the word like that made his stomach jump. She could be teasing, riling him up, but still; it always had, the word, _girlfriend_, he loved having them, as a high school kid, in college, well, there was Lisa and she was different, and then there was Linda – fucking bitch, and then, now, Natalie.

And Natalie was different in the ways Linda could have never been, and in ways Lisa could only dream to be. She didn't take it all too seriously, she let him do that, but still, she was complicit with sharing her life with him, in some ways (spending lazy Sunday mornings in his bed) and less so in others (still, she wouldn't let him undress her).

"Stop it," Joe told her with a smile, and she looked away from whatever she was looking at to look at him, instead.

He was now directly behind her desk and she pulled on his tie to bring him closer.

"Come here," she whispered and before he could object – as if – she was kissing him, he was kissing her, they were kissing _each other._

It was exactly the right amount of everything, push and pull, give and take, tongue and lip. There is something she does when she kisses him and somehow, every, single, fucking time, it elicits the same sound from him, and now, was no different as he pulls on her hair and she, at the nape of his neck.

Suddenly, somebody coughing from behind them shook them from their stupor. He reluctantly separated from her, and she, him.

"That's disgusting. Have some respect," Linda chided them both, as she turned on her heel to go right back out the door.

"You're disgusting," Joe rebuffed, and he heard Natalie snicker just as Linda went "_ugh,_ you are _such_ a child!"

…

Their first night with Vanessa was tough. They were so happy to have gotten a child, gotten _her,_ and so, that particular night, their feelings were all over the place, which translated in the two of them being _all over each other_.

Every time Joe leaned over to kiss Natalie's neck, and she'd fall into his touch like it wasn't even her choice, letting out soft, satisfied murmurs as he inched up and down along her skin, there would be interruptions. Interruptions in the form of a pint-sized little girl in the room directly across from theirs.

The room itself was made to be a guest room, but even so, it was still of respectable size, much bigger than a little girl really needed, but that was good, because he and Natalie agreed about something, and that was that they wanted to give that little girl the world. It was painted grey, but if she wanted pink, or purple, blue, or green, or even all four colors – one on each wall – they were more than happy to give it to her. They wanted her to feel like she could one day (hopefully very soon, but in no way would they ever push her to feel a certain way) have a home here, with them.

"Natalie?"

"Oh fuck me," Natalie groaned a little, reluctantly prying herself away from him and getting off of the bed.

He could see it though, in her eyes, how they were lit up like stars, that she was loving being needed, loving that a small human wanted her love and attention. It was then that he really could see how much her dream of being a mother truly surrounded her; these days, it was in everything she did, everything she said, all of it was out of caring for that child.

She leaned over and pecked him on the lips. "I'll be back for you in a minute."

"I'll be waiting," he said to her as she left the room, leaving their door open.

From his spot on their bed, he could hear both of their voices, equally quiet and sage in the din of the middle of the night.

"What's up, Vanessa? Are you doing okay? Is the bed comfortable? Do you want another pillow, or a glass of water or something?"

"No…I'm fine. Can I – can I tell you something?"

"Anything, honey. You can tell me absolutely anything you want to."

Joe could only just see the expanse of the hallway just beyond the doorframe, but he could picture Natalie sitting on the edge of the bed, reaching out to softly take Vanessa's hand and stroke her knuckles. It was a comforting tactic he was all to familiar with, and he imagined it to work wonders on children, just like it did on him.

"Should I…should I feel bad that I'm glad to be here with you and Joe?"

He gasped, and he knew Natalie was in there doing the same, or maybe she was trying to tone it down for the sake of Vanessa watching for her reaction.

"Of course not. No. You should not feel bad about that. Joe and I – we're so glad you're here with us. Why would you say something like that?"

Her tone wasn't accusatory, not in the slightest. It seemed to be more in confusion than anything else.

Vanessa took a deep breath. So did he.

"Because my parents are, like, _alive._ Some kids, their parents are dead because they died in car accidents or murders or whatever. But mine…mine were just mean."

_Mine were just mean. Mine were just mean. Mine were just…__**mean.**_

_Holy shit. _

Of course, he knew the story. He and Natalie went through those files front to back with the social worker. It was one thing however, for an adult to take on that kind of heavy shit, internalize it, understand it, but it was a whole other thing, a whole _fucked up_ _kind of thing,_ for a child to have to do the same, to_ live_ it.

Having Vanessa say that, to say that _about her parents,_ the people that were supposed to love and care for her every god damn day of her little life, just made their situation, her situation, all the more real, and all the more unforgiving.

"_Oh, sweet baby_," Natalie cooed gently, likely pushing her hair back from her face, or stroking her arm or maybe even giving her a hug.

There was nothing she could really say, because, well, that was the truth. The sad, upsetting, absolutely fucking unfortunate truth.

After that, there was silence, but if he concentrated enough, he could hear little snivels (probably Vanessa) and sighs (probably Natalie) and then both of those things calmed down after a minute.

He was expecting Natalie to return on her own, maybe after agreeing to leave their door open and the nightlight on in the hall, but what happened surprised him, but only for a second. He rearranged his face before any damage could be done by the curse a far too observant child.

Joe wondered if _all _children were too observant for their own good, or if that was a personality trait suited to those kids who had a straight _fucked up_ home life. He assumed he would find out one day. Vanessa would go to school next week, make friends, hopefully. She seemed like a sweet kid, so they would have to love her.

"Hi, Joe," Vanessa said to him now, her voice small, maybe even ashamed. "Natalie said that I could sleep in here tonight, if that's okay with you."

Joe looked up at his girlfriend, who gave him the same look in return. _Yes, it's fine with me._

"Of course, sweetheart," Joe said to her, lightly patting the middle of the bed. "Let's get you on up here."

Vanessa tentatively approached the bed, but then looked back at Natalie, almost fearfully.

"Actually, you know, what? I think I'm good now. I'm just going to go back to my room, if that's okay."

Natalie placed a hand on her back and the both of them watched Vanessa flinch but try and cover it up with a cough.

Natalie met his gaze, and he bet he looked as nervous as she did.

"Oh, yeah, no, that's _for sure_ okay. Do you want me to walk you back?"

Vanessa shook her head. "No. No thanks."

With that, Vanessa left their room without another word or another look back. She even went as far as closing her bedroom door.

"Should I go open that, or…" Joe trailed off, not sure what the best course of action was here.

Natalie sighed. "I think it's best if we let her have the time to herself, decompress. It's been one hell of a day for her. She'll talk to us when she's ready."

Joe sighed, too, ran his hand through his hair. "You don't think that…she thinks that I'm…"

Natalie put a hand to her mouth, her eyes screaming sympathy.

"Oh, god, Joe._ No_. Maybe she doesn't trust you all the way yet, hell, she barely knows us, but I think she knows enough. She sees that you're a sweet, gentle, caring man. You know that you're practically the only good one left."

She took his face in her hands and kissed him, soft and slow, and it was a cliché, the way her mouth opened slightly, forcing his apart.

"She'll come around. We just have to give her time. We don't know how much, and it might be a long road yet, but she will get there."

"Yeah," he said to her, "I'm sure she will."

"Hey," she said to him, getting back onto the bed and under the covers. He followed suit and turned on his side to face her. "Did I ever say thank you?"

"For what?"

She took his fingers in her hands and fidgeted aimlessly with them as she talked. She was nervous.

"For doing this with me. For not only giving me the chance to be a mother, but for being a father alongside me. For supporting me through it all, being there with me through it all. Vanessa's six. We've got twelve more years with her if she wants them, with us. _And I do_. I want them more than anything. There's something about her, Joe, don't you feel it…I just – "

He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "There's something about you, too. Whatever that _something_ is, you both have it. And I fell in love with you, so I'm bound to fall for her, too."

She gave him a bit of a funny look and he was quick to correct himself. "I mean, not, in _that _way. I'll grow to love her like a father loves his daughter."

She smiled at him. "I knew what you meant. I just love seeing you get all flustered and blush like that."

"Oh yeah? Well, I love seeing_ you_ blush," he said, his voice saturated in sex.

For a second, her expression was just as sultry, but then it reverted back to how it was before.

"Wait a sec. Joe, I mean it when I say it. _Thank you._ Thank you for giving me what no other man could."

For a second, he saw it on her face, the way it paled slightly. She didn't mean it like that, she didn't mean to take away from Jason's manhood (though, really, did he have much of that to begin with?) or discount what their marriage meant to her, at least for a time. And he knew that. He would absolve of her of whatever guilt she was feeling, right now.

"Nat, I know you aren't slandering Jason when you say that. You're not that kind of person, no matter how hard you try to convince people that you are. And that's one of the very many reasons why I love you."

She stared at him. "One of the _very many?_ I didn't realize I had more than maybe three good qualities. My boobs, my ass, and my lips. One of which is fake. Take your guess."

He laughed. "Please don't let it be your ass."

She slapped his chest in response and glared at him.

He laughed again. "I'm kidding. Not only are you _absolutely gorgeous_, you're also kind, loving, smart, much smarter than me, and you're going to be the best mother this world has ever seen."

She leaned down to kiss him, and she surprised him by kissing him as though her life hung in the balance of keeping their mouths pressed together. It was giving him a head rush.

She broke away from him quickly and messily, to take off her shirt. She smiled at him and winked. _"That'll do, Joe. That'll do."_

Joe shook his head with a chuckle as he gripped her hips. "You really are something."

She was kissing his neck now, but she stopped to look at him. "Well that's why you love me, remember?"

He chuckled again. He couldn't deny that. "Thank you for reminding me."

* * *

**_Author's Note: If you made it to the end, hello! Remember to shoot me a quick review – I love hearing what people think of my work! _**


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